Captive ☆ ( A magcon fanfic)

Chapter 4

Savanah:

My life was never the same after my parents died. I lost all my friends at school because i was the 'killer girl' and not that long after my parents died my neighbors were to frightened by my parents death to take care of me any longer. According to the towns gossip- i was the 'messed up' girl. The girl so deranged that she killed her own mom and dad. But it wasn't the truth. How or why would i kill the two people i had loved the most? The two that had always been there for me when i needed a hand? It was nauseating the way everyone turned their back on me when the two people that had helped me through everything was now gone. How could my mothers and fathers closest friends abandon me just because of their own worthless fear? Their own terror causing them to turn away from the helpless frightened little girl was pathetic. They wouldn't even consider my side of the story, they believed whatever their friends told them to believe. Unless i had some sort of memory loss, i know i didn't kill my parents. Some sort of criminal monster had done this to my mother and father, and one day karma would go and bite them in the ass. The police had questioned me almost every day that year; desperate to find the cause of my parents death. I wrote down all i knew, my vocal cords damaged from the screaming that day. I was forever muted, even though the doctors told me i could learn to speak. Why would i want to speak when my parents wouldn't be able to tell me how proud they were? It has been 11 years since the murderer came, and my parents killer had still not been found. Even though i knew i was innocent; the police sent me away from my home town to live with my grandparents in a small town in oakland since it was a 'safer' option. My grandfather, turning 71 in only a few weeks, was always one of my favorite relatives. As a kid, he would play board games with me for hours straight, would feed me so much ice cream my stomach would hurt, and read me my favorite bedtime story every time i was there. After everything that happened, he was still the most supporting grandfather there was. He was there for me whenever i needed a hug- or whenever i needed some reassuring words. My grandmother on the other hand, turning 68 in 6 months, was the complete opposite. As a child she taught me how to pray to god, would scream at me after not being able remember the words to a hymn, and would never accept any gifts or school work i would try to give her. She was always my least favorite. After my parents death, she was the scariest women i've ever met. I cowered away from her, my fear to strong to make contact with her. Her face turns red whenever i make eye contact with her, her anger towards me violent. At about 10 o'clock every night i can hear her praying to god, telling him to get rid of the devil living in her home. We have a hate- hate relationship. Even though my grandmother hated me, her and my grandfather still gave me a place to stay and a way to be protected from the haunting nightmare. Nobody in this town knew what had happened. The secret was a weight on my shoulders, but i didn't have to worry about anyone figuring it out. The release of the stress helped me with my education. I became a young girl smarter than most of the other students, sometimes smarter than children 3 grades above me. Even though i would not dare to speak, i became very wise. By the second grade i was able to do geometry problems the 3rd graders were working on, and i knew a little bit of the american revolution the 4th/5th grade was learning. I used my terror to become brighter, not to become some girl that was to scared to learn. I had to move on with my life, no matter the cost. Even after being moved to a stress free town, i knew that everything would have be different. Different was strange to me, but i was going have to adapt if i wanted to forget.